Owned: A Mafia Menage Romance(150)

“No, no,” I muttered, blinded to the painting in front of me. Suddenly the room started to seem like a too-small, too-solid thing. The air was unbreathably dense. “I actually can’t. I get… um…. Look. The whole reason I work in a visual medium is so I don’t have to talk, you see? I’m not an actor. I don’t perform.”

“I’ve seen you perform all sorts of things,” he said with a cheeky wink.

“No, be serious!” I shot back, unable to control the volume or timbre of my voice anymore. I sounded like a little kid, irrational and obstinate. He wasn’t listening and if I couldn’t get through to him, I was pretty sure I would be losing my shit in 4… 3… 2.... “I won’t be able to… I won’t…”

“OK, OK,” he whispered, taking me into his arms and holding me still. I felt my chest quaking against his as he kissed the top of my head.

“Talk to Declan,” he counselled. “You don’t even know what he has planned yet. It won’t be so bad, and I know you, Margot. You really can do anything. Anyone you meet just wants to get to know you. You’re special, and they just want to get close.”

“Really?” I half-whimpered into his chest.

“Really,” he said, drawing back and looking into my eyes. As soon as I felt that connection, everything seemed to soften, like a sudden ending to a storm. The threat of disaster seemed to pass. The klaxon horns went mostly mute. He dipped his head toward me, his lips so near to mine that I could feel their heat.

“Just being close to you, Margot. That’s all they want and you will be magnificent. I know you will. Be yourself. I can’t imagine what anyone else could need.”

Then he covered my mouth with his, sending away the last of the clouds. I melted against him until I was saturated with his strength.





CHAPTER 4


WE LEFT THE MUSEUM and I felt numb and uncommunicative for about as long as it took us to walk out onto the Museumplein and see all the tourists climbing all over the “I Amsterdam” like a bunch of kids at recess. Their enthusiasm brightened my spirits considerably. Admittedly, I’ve never been great in crowds and my avoidance of them is a sure-fire way to not embarrass myself in front of them. But what did I really have to fear? If a grey-haired woman in a kerchief is willing to scale a giant, red ‘A’ while the wind whips her skirt up over the back of her head, how could I be so wimpy about a little cocktail party?

After ogling the old woman’s powder blue, polyester briefs for a while, I slipped my hand back into the crook of Jackson’s strong arm and we walked along the reflecting pool in the morning sunshine. He seemed content with the silence and so was I, wanting to make sure my mood was all rainbows and wiffle balls before speaking again. I felt bad that I had spent so much of the last 24 hours so churlish when my life was really like some kind of fairy tale.

We walked out of the park and onto the street just as the Bentley was pulling up. Jackson stepped ahead to open the door for me.

“Your carriage, madame,” he said with a wink.

Gratefully I slid into the lush leather interior and slumped against the seat. I realized it was probably the middle of the night in California and though I had slept through most of the flight, I could have fallen right back into dreamland if there wasn’t so much to look at. Jackson climbed in next to me and tugged my chin forward for a soft, sweet kiss, his hand encircling mine firmly, his lips delicious to taste.

“Well, this is pretty all right,” I sighed as the driver took us into traffic.

“Yes, it really is. But…”

“Uhoh.”

“No, nothing big, but I have a few meetings yet this morning. There are… oh a million things I wish I could show you here if you can be a little patient.”

I shook my head. “Patience is not really my thing,” I teased.

“I’ll be back before you know it. Dec will show you the house…. Oh there’s shopping nearby you might want to hit… I think you’ll find plenty of distractions.”

“None quite this good, though,” I insisted, lightly dragging the point of my tongue along the crescent of his upper lip.

“I certainly hope not,” he whispered, his hand sliding behind my neck and pulling me forward. Instantly I could taste his lust in his mouth, that savory shift of hormones. He tasted like hunger and my whole body responded like it had been lit from within.

The moment his fingers lifted the hem of my dress I was wet. He slid his hand across my belly and drove his fingers down the front of my panties, immediately finding my clit and working it assertively. I moaned and bucked my hips, instantly on a mission to come on his hand.